


The Witch Prince

by The_RENAGADE



Series: AU stuff (AHiT) [6]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Familiars, He's kinda trying to hide, I mean she may have freaked out a bit and tried to chop his hand off with a sword oops, Magic-Users, Princes & Princesses, Roughpatch can talk, Secret Crush, Vanessa may have tried to kill him, Witch Hunters, Witch Prince, Witches, misses his family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-04 15:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_RENAGADE/pseuds/The_RENAGADE
Summary: "Open your books to page 209, Brewing 101."His livelihood, everything he did, it was to be kept a secret."Your job. Seek out the Witch Prince, and when you do, slay him."She was chosen. Seek him out, and kill him. All Witches were dangerous. All Witches needed to die.He wasn't any different. He was just more dangerous than any other. So why did it feel so wrong?





	The Witch Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this...I guess? Yeah.

He couldn't remember a day when he wasn't standing over a cauldron, multi-colored liquids in jars surrounding him. The smell of herbs, mixing together, creating something new, something wonderful, in his mind, was absolute euphoria. His eyes shone in anticipation, one bright, the color of molten gold, the other, shimmering the color of fog, as he poured in the last ingredient to his creation. He grabbed the wooden spoon, and stirred, until the liquid turned a soft blue, and he dipped a finger in it to taste. Perhaps doing that was why his fingers were permanently stained blue up to his knuckles, but he didn't care. The potion tasted of bitter cranberries, and he frowned slightly. "Not quite there," he said, grabbing a stained rag from the table next to him, and wiping his hands off. He then tossed it aside, and lifted the goggles from off his face. His hair was a mess, but it was always a mess, and he refused to cut it any shorter.

“Lemme guess, your potion didn’t come out the way you wanted it, _again,_ ” the Bushcat said, walking in the room, her spiked tail swishing softly through the air. She lept onto the table, careful not to knock over any of the glass jars, and the Witch gave her a look. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Snatcher.” He rolled his eyes, and poured some of the potion in a jar. “It’ll do, if another Hunter comes after me. Roughpatch, did my brother send any letters or anything?” Snatcher asked, as he set down the jar, and stopped it, before setting it on the shelf, and clearing the table of supplies. Roughpatch shook her head, a few stray leaves falling off. “Oh,” he said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. “I know you miss them, but they have lives too,” she said, and he inhaled sharply. “I just...I feel as if they’ve forgotten about me,” he said, looking at his hands, and Roughpatch sighed. 

“I know that you feel forgotten, sir, but understand that I’d be a bit strange if they found out that your family was sending letters to a supposedly dead Witch."

  


End file.
